


Nothing Changes if Nothing Changes

by littlehollyleaf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Episode: s05e14 My Bloody Valentine, I suppose..., M/M, Sex Pollen, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-08
Updated: 2010-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:56:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9139993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlehollyleaf/pseuds/littlehollyleaf
Summary: 5.14 coda. Dean feels empty. Cas has some left over cravings he's been keeping quiet about.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to [](http://star-watcher81.livejournal.com/profile)[star_watcher81](http://star-watcher81.livejournal.com/) who pledged for me to finish this at [](http://pledge-a-thon.livejournal.com/profile)[pledge_a_thon](http://pledge-a-thon.livejournal.com/) \- thanks hon :) Also credit to [](http://cassandra-leeds.livejournal.com/profile)[cassandra_leeds](http://cassandra-leeds.livejournal.com/) whose fic [Of Curses and Fog](http://cassandra-leeds.livejournal.com/3394.html) was the original inspiration. Read that one too, it's brilliant! Oh, and hey, this is my first SPN fic to be fully beta-ed - all thanks to the lovely [](http://katie-f-thomas.livejournal.com/profile)[katie_f_thomas](http://katie-f-thomas.livejournal.com/). Kudos for all your support guys <3

**Nothing changes if nothing changes**

 

Dean's running, chest burning with panic. He runs up and down the stairs of Bobby's house, runs through the kitchen and into the basement, but no-one's there. Not only that, but things keep going missing. The oven, piles of books, beds, the fucking _panic room_ , which freaks him out because Sammy's supposed to be in there, _has_ to be in there so he can work through his demon blood withdrawal. He yells for Bobby to try and find out what's going on, but Bobby isn't there either, and Cas has gone and Dean doesn't have a phone to call him on so he knows the angel won't be able to find him and everything's slipping away and it's not fucking fair!

The world starts spinning and Dean figures he's been wearing himself out or giving himself a panic attack or some shit, so he bends over, hands on his thighs to breathe in deep and calm down. But it's about then he realises he can't breathe. And not because he's freaking out or whatever, but because there's nowhere for the oxygen to go. He has no lungs. No organs at all, even, and no blood. He's completely hollow and as he lifts a hand he finds he can see straight through it. He's fading away. Nothing to him. Nothing at all...

Nothing expect the soft, rumbling voice that seems to come from all around him, seeping into him and keeping him real... just barely...

"Dean... _Dean_..."

A hand grips tight about his shoulder and the dream dissolves.

Dean jerks his head up with a gasp and finds himself staring straight into Castiel's wide, blue-circled gaze.

"Wha-?" he mutters, and awareness starts to return. He's on his knees at Sam's bedside, arms folded across the mattress at the younger man's waist, just below the leather restraints across his arms.

He remembers Sam's screams - they'd started so much sooner this time. Remembers him begging, _crying_ for help. Remembers escaping outside for a few minutes for some begging of his own, only to be met by the cold, empty night sky.

Remembers pacing inside again in defeat and finding Cas exactly where he'd left him, straight backed and stoic outside the lead door, listening to Sam's cries like it was his duty. Or a punishment, maybe.

His face had softened as Dean came down the stairs - not in a way any normal person would perceive, but Dean had been around the angel long enough to notice the change - and he'd tried to say something. Like maybe he'd heard everything Dean had been saying outside, despite the distance, and Dean figured maybe he had. It had been _kinda_ like a prayer, and Cas had been there for his last. But he'd cut the angel off with a sharp word and wave of his hand, telling him he wanted to be with Sam alone.

Not that he did. In fact that was the _last_ fucking thing he'd wanted. But the last time Sam had gone through this he'd abandoned him, left him to go it alone, and this time round Dean was determined to do it different. Hoped that being there might ease Sam's pain somehow, that the two of them together might somehow re-ignite something, remind him what they were fighting for and make it worth it.

Still. It doesn't surprise that the ache inside him is still there.

He blinks and schools his face to hide it, looking up the bed.

"Sam...?" he starts, but Cas interrupts, hand still holding Dean's arm, like he fears the other will collapse if he lets go.

"He is fine," he nods. "He's sleeping."

Dean can see Cas is right. Sam's body is slack, his eyes closed. He looks peaceful and a modicum of relief melts through Dean's chest.

"Is it over?" he asks, voice thick with exhaustion that's far from simply physical.

There's a pause and Dean's head whips back to Cas, eyes sharp.

"No," the angel admits. "The withdrawal has exhausted him, but there will undoubtedly be more to come."

Dean sighs and Cas' face creases up, like it's his words, and not the truth behind them, that have brought the current trouble down on the hunter. Dean wants to reassure him, but he's just too tired.

"How _much_ more?" he manages.

Cas looks down. More shame.

"I don't know. Sam's last two attempts to overcome this were interrupted. There is no way of telling how long it will take for the blood to leave his system naturally."

Dean nods. His head feels heavy.

"Of course..."

"You should sleep also," Cas adds. "You need rest."

"No," Dean argues, blinking hard and trying to sit up straight. "I need to stay."

"I will watch him in your absence," Cas promises, but Dean won't have it.

" _No_ , Cas," he snaps, trying to shake the angel's hand away. It doesn't work. "Last time I left him here he got out, and hell _literally_ broke loose. He's my brother. We gotta stay together."

Castiel leans forward and Dean realises for the first time that the angel is also on his knees, trenchcoat pooled around him on the dusty floor.

"He will be safe here this time, Dean," Cas insists. "He chose this course of action, he will not leave intentionally..." A pause. "Nor did he last time. He was set free."

There are too many words for Dean's fogged mind to grasp, so he latches onto the last few and shakes his head.

"Yeah, fucking Ruby..." he spits, and frowns as Cas' hand lifts away as a result.

He looks over to find Castiel's lips have parted, uncertain, fingers curling away and pulling back. As Dean watches the angel turns his head, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows something down, and things click into place with surprising ease.

"It wasn't Ruby."

Cas shakes his head, eyes fixed on the wall beyond Sam's head.

"Zachariah ordered his releas-"

"Was it you?"

Cas' eyes move down.

"Yes."

Silence between them.

"I am sorry," Cas starts, but Dean cuts him off.

"Forget it."

But Castiel won't.

"I regret it more each day I spend with you, I -"

"I said _forget it!_ "

Momentary anger gives Dean enough energy to push to his feet.

"Doesn't matter," he continues, swaying slightly to stay balanced. "We started the apocalypse. You betrayed Anna. Let out Sam. We're all pawns in this..."

He sways again and this time a warm pair of hands steadies him by the shoulders. When did Cas get up?

"Dean, you must rest," Cas tries again, voice quieter. Contrite. It's kinda sweet. Dean thinks maybe he should tell Cas he forgives him instead of trying to drop the subject. Angel's are probably into that absolution crap. But, Sam...

"I said _no_ , Cas," Dean mutters, giving the angel a half-hearted push.

But Cas holds him fast and suddenly they're in the middle of one of their epic staring contests. Dean knows Castiel's eyes better than his own by now. Better than Sam's, even. And right now they're a 'do not fuck with me' navy that he doesn't think he can be bothered to fight.

"You are of no use to him like this," Cas says and Dean's shoulders sag beneath him.

"Maybe you're right..." he starts.

There are two fingers at his forehead in a blink and seconds later they're in the gloom of Bobby's spare bedroom upstairs.

"Hey!" Dean protests, pulling away. "That wasn't an invitation."

Castiel just stares at him, unrepentant, from the end of the moonlit bed opposite and Dean drops all thought of vocalising his forgiveness.

Has to admit the thick sheets and puffed up pillows look pretty appealing though.

Cas doesn't look like he's leaving until he has proof Dean will indeed be going to sleep either so the hunter gives in with a shrug.

"Okay, fine..." he mutters, ripping off his jacket and top in two slick moves and throwing them to the floor.

He puts a hand to his jeans and lifts his eyes expectantly.

Castiel has followed every moment and continues to stare, gaze focused on Dean's fingers.

"You know, usually people look away when someone else is getting undressed," Dean says and Cas actually jumps, body jolting, head snapping up.

"Of course," he answers quickly, turning to the wall, shoulders bunching up.

Since Dean first met the angel Cas has never been exactly relaxed - well, except that one time, with that other Cas, the one Dean has promised himself he will never, ever, let come to pass - but the way he's standing now is tense, even for him.

"Hey, you okay?" he asks, irritation and fatigue dropping away for a moment as concern takes over, giving him enough focus to examine Castiel properly.

"I'm fine," Cas answers, but his voice is far too tight and -

"No you're not, you're fucking _shaking_ , Cas," Dean observes, moving closer to rest a hand on the angel's shoulder. Instead of stilling him, Cas continues to tremble beneath the touch. And just like that Dean is awake again. Okay, so he's running on empty and using adrenaline to keep himself going, but it's not the first time. "What's going on?"

"It's nothing," Castiel answers without turning.

"Yeah, fuck that," Dean responds, tugging the angel's shoulder to pull him round.

Cas' response is electric - he jerks away and crashes back against the wall, chest heaving as his eyes creep up to Dean's.

Dean lifts both his palms in apology, blinking in shock.

"Sorry... I..." Cas breathes. "Although Famine is gone I am still struggling with certain... cravings... I will have them under control again soon..."

Dean's forehead knots up.

"What? You mean, like, your hankering for red meat?"

Cas shakes his head, eyes darting away.

"That was Jimmy's hunger. It is fortunate it was so strong, I was able to use it to mask my own."

Dean lifts an eyebrow, sceptical.

"Yeah, real fortunate when it had you leaving me high and dry in that diner."

He regrets the words at once when Cas' expression, already more melancholy than Dean's used to, crumples to full on regret.

"I am sorry, I never meant -"

"Don't worry about it," Dean adds quickly, waving a hand. "Not your fault. I get it. So, Jimmy's no longer craving, which means you are. What is it you're jonesing for? With Famine gone all you need's a quick fix, right? Why not take it?"

Cas gasps in a breath and looks away.

"That... won't be necessary," he mutters.

Dean shrugs, confused.

"Why? You got a demon blood addiction as well? What is it?"

Cas' head twists reluctantly back and his eyes trail down Dean, past the mark on his shoulder, past his tattoo, to linger at the hunter's waist. Or. Not his waist - lower. And Dean notices his pupils for the first time - they're blown, inky black and needy. Cas licks his lips, forces his gaze back up and Dean nods.

"Right..." Makes sense. He knows Cas is still a virgin, possibly the longest surviving one in history. Figures if a guy controlling hunger was gonna make anyone horny it'd be him. It even makes Dean smirk a little. "Well, you know, just get some money, go back to where I took you before..."

But Cas closes his eyes, looking a little pained, and shakes his head again.

"It's not girls I desire, Dean," he says in a rush.

That takes Dean back a moment, lips parting in surprise. But then... it might explain a few things...

"Oh... well... there are places for that too..."

"No." Cas turns his head back, eyes opening into Dean's and staying there. "There aren't."

Maybe he's been playing this staring game too long, but Dean can read what Cas isn't saying perfectly.

" _Oh_ ," he says, still holding on. Until he realises that really isn't helping and turns his head away. "Oh...,

Words struggle to come after that.

There's a part of his brain telling Dean to feel embarrassed, but he doesn't. He doesn't feel anything. And maybe that's how it's always been. Not just since he got out of Hell, but his whole life. Emotions buried and packed away so efficiently so he could focus on the job that, eventually, he lost them altogether.

So Castiel, angel of the lord, has the hots for him. That's... Dean shakes his head. That's _wrong_ is what it is.

He turns his back and paces away.

"Nah, Cas, you got this mixed up," he says. "You don't want me."

Dean swears he can fucking _hear_ the guy's head tilting.

"Why?"

Dean barks out a laugh.

"Where do I start?" he shrugs, turning round. Cas has stopped shaking now, his whole attention is simply focused on Dean, eyes wide and sorta hopeful, like he _wants_ Dean to dissuade him. Dean is more than happy to oblige. "I got you kicked out of Heaven. Your family's trying to kill you, _has_ killed you. You're losing your mojo, enough to put you in a coma for three days for fucks sake, and it's all my fault!"

He grimaces after, pressing his eyelids together until his sees spots. Because he told himself he wouldn't do this. It's bad enough Cas has to cope with this shit at all, he doesn't need to be reminded of it.

"None of this was your doing, Dean," the angel's voice breathes through the darkness. And it's strange because it's soothing, not jilted like Cas' words usually are. Reassuring, like their last exchange outside the panic room. Castiel speaking not through necessity, but attempting to comfort. It's what Dean's been hoping for from him for a long time, but in this moment all he hears is _human_ , and that just feels like another sin. "It was my choice."

"Yeah, well it was a bad one," Dean snaps, blinking blurred carpet into being. Another thing he's never meant to say. Him and Sam _need_ Castiel is the truth of it. Without an angel, even a broken one, they don't stand a chance against Lucifer, so the fact that helping them and sticking around is one of the most colossally stupid and suicidal things Cas can do is something Dean and his brother have made a tacit agreement not to bring up. But Sam's downstairs and incapacitated because of one of _his_ poor choices and Dean's tired of pretending everything's okay, of pretending he doesn't think Cas was right in that hospital when he told them he'd thrown his life away for nothing. "You didn't know what you were getting into."

There's a long stretch of silence and Dean thinks maybe Cas has finally got it, realised his mistake and gone for good, like he should have done months ago. He jumps when the angel speaks again, eyes lifting to find Cas hasn't moved an inch.

"I was never unaware of the implications of helping you," he says. "Although I admit I was... unprepared for them, at first." He meets Dean's gaze and the hunter sees his pupils are still fat. There's still a desire behind all this, and Dean wonders if it's effecting Cas' judgement. "I do not regret my actions."

Yeah. Guy's got it bad. Breaking that affection would be doing him a favour.

"You should," Dean answers. "Because we're not worth it." And what he really means is 'I'm not.' "I mean, what is there here for you?" It feels like he's choking now, not even sure if it's Cas he's talking to anymore. "Nothing. Nothing but pain, and bad decisions, and good people dying -"

He cuts off, because he can't - he can't think about this - can't picture Jo and Ellen and the way the kid shivered as he kissed her goodbye. He'd told Sam he was coping with that, that he'd hidden it out of sight, and he has to, because Sam's falling apart and one of them needs to be strong.

But then Cas is _right there_ with a hand to his chin, lifting his face up while Dean's still exposed.

"Then I will take the pain," Cas says slowly. "And I will take Sam, and you, just as you are. Because it is better this way." Dean tries to shake his head, hurt at hearing his own words spoken back to him - they sound idealistic and naïve. But Castiel's thumb and forefinger pinch tight, holding him in place. "You doubt it, and you doubt yourself, because of what Famine said. But he sees only what his hunger permits him to see. He cannot see the whole of a man... not like I can..."

Dean can't tell anymore if this is comfort or chastisement. All he thinks is - it's wrong. Cas is wrong. He's not thinking clearly. He's sexed up and talking bullshit. But there's something in his eyes, beyond the want. A kind of faith, that says Dean was _right_ back in that green room, that there's more to him than a hollow vessel, that he isn't empty, and suddenly Dean wants that more than anything, wants so badly to be somebody again.

He presses forward, into Castiel's moonstruck gaze, onto his lips. Acting on a half-formed idea that if he just reaches far enough, he can take that something from the angel as if it were physical.

Cas tenses. Shock or fear - Dean doesn't know. But before he can end things and pull away, Castiel is melting into him, two hands hovering over Dean's waist and dropping closer in tentative dips.

It's right then Dean's mind starts screaming - _idiot, bastard, bastard, stop it!_ This is how low he's fallen? Taking advantage of a weakened angel? One that's basically drugged, or still coming down from the high at least? And the worst part is that makes him hot. Getting down and dirty with being that used to be nigh on all powerful, one that once threatened to drag him back to Hell, snapping Cas' halo right off, fuck yes, he's had fantasies about this... well, not _this_ , but the general principle.

Cas makes a noise against Dean's skin, something like a moan, and his fingers grip tighter, leaving burning red marks in their wake. It makes Dean wonder if the angel was listening in on his thoughts, and if so, is this reaction a good thing, or what?

Castiel breaks off, breath shaky as he draws it in. When Dean looks, he finds the angel's eyes are closed.

"Dean..." he rumbles. "I'm... I want..." A quick tremor passes through him, running through his palms and making Dean shiver as well.

He should tell Cas to get out. Stop this before it starts. But it seems like it's already too late to Dean. They're in this to the end, no matter what.

"Okay..." he mutters, voice rough. "Okay, Cas. You and me. Let's do it..."

Cas snaps his eyes open and they're not clear, they're dark, barely holding it together. He dips his head and looks up at Dean, stern.

"Dean..." he breathes again. "Are you _sure?_ "

Dean holds the look and takes in a breath. He's kinda relieved to be saying this to an angel, at last.

"Yes."

He doesn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this - Cas on top of him, running a hand down his already naked body. Fingernails scraping skin, like a man in a desert, splashing water to make sure it's real. Cas is undressed too, skin flashing milky white in the glare from the window, and he's panting, like the trick took more out of him than he was expecting.

"Whoa..." Dean mutters and Cas stills his hand, pressing it down hard, as if that's the only way to stop it. The weakened mattress sinks beneath their weight and the stale smell of old sheets wafts around them, the fabric cool against Dean's back.

"Dean, I... I didn't mean to..." Cas starts, eyes scrunching up, like after that spell he'd used to track down Anna. It's a look that hurt Dean before, left him feeling angry and impotent. But now - now he's in his element. He could navigate this set up blindfold, _has_ done, and Cas' pain makes him protective, makes him want to get this right. It's the guy's first time, it's the least he can do.

He reaches a hand to Cas' neck. Rubs softly.

"S'okay. Take it easy."

But Cas doesn't ease up, and his hand twists round Dean's stomach and digs into his side. It takes a moment for the pain to filter through and when it does Dean figures he'll probably have bruises tomorrow. It burns and makes him hiss, but he smiles as well because it's sharp and it's _real_ , it makes his heart pound and his blood rush. _Yes,_ his body's singing, _you want this. You need it._

"I can't..." Cas bites out. "I can't wait, Dean."

When his eyes open again they're unfocused and that's almost scary. Even eating on the floor like an animal he'd been completely focused on the task, because Cas is always sure of what he's doing, never lost, never desperate. Right or wrong he picks his path and he follows it. But his other hand is snaking down now like he doesn't even realise, moving past Dean's crotch and lower, and while Dean's body is freaking out, tensing up to resist, Dean's mind is willing Cas on. If the angel's so desperate for this then let him take it, considering the shift things have taken maybe they'll both get what they need. Win - Win.

"Then don't. Don't wait," Dean says, the words harsh and dry. "Just do it."

And his mind adds some less savoury phrases. _Give it to me. Fill me up. Hard and fast and dirty_ , but maybe all he's really saying is 'make it hurt, make it real, make _me_ real, _please_...' Or maybe that's just what Castiel hears, because he pauses in bending Dean's legs and pulling them apart, a finger at Dean's entrance, and his face softens. It's not pity, it's something deeper than that. A sorrow Dean doesn't understand.

A second later it doesn't matter, because all Dean's tension is draining away and Cas is sliding three whole fingers inside him like butter, smooth and sure and deep, and Dean is keening at the touch, legs spreading wide.

But even as he writhes and groans part of him is recoiling because where's the pain? He wants penance, not affection. Contempt, not acceptance. He's always found more truth in the former than the latter. Stupid angel magic.

Somewhere through the haze he can hear Cas murmur his name. There's a 'please' in there too. And again. And other things an angel really shouldn't be saying, but they sound fresh and pure coming from this one - 'been wanting you... so long... needed to feel you... you feel so good, Dean...'

Cas doesn't know about the heat and burn, Dean realises. Doesn't know about friction and how tearing someone's skin can be exquisite if you do it just hard enough. It's his first time - he wants it soft and sweet and it makes Dean want to cry because that's not him. He can do slow, and gentle, and patient, but he can't make it mean something, not like Cas wants it to. He doesn't have that in him to give. Been hoping to take it _from_ Cas, even, selfish bastard that he is, when Cas has given so much already and deserves so much better...

The soft touch of lips against his is unexpected. Castiel's are warm and moist against his own, licking the whiskey away, and Dean's faintly surprised to find no taste of meat at all. Wonders if Sam taught the guy about mouthwash. Then remembers the meat thing was Jimmy's and the lips are too. He should probably be mortified about not thinking of that sooner, but then Cas pulls his fingers out and there are _two_ aches inside Dean and all he can think of is satisfying them. Jimmy consented. Gave his body to be used as Cas saw fit. So it's on him if Cas wants to use it for this, right?

Dean doesn't need to wait long for more because Cas is breaking away and pushing straight into him. There's a catch and a give and Cas makes a high-pitched sound, eyes closing. Dean takes it in silence but breathes out deep, eyes trailing over their joined bodies in fascination, because he's never imagined this with anyone, least of all an angel.

Cas grabs his shoulders, right hand fitting neatly over its mark, and starts rocking. The silence breaks with that because Dean can't hold back a moan, starting deep and rising with each move. His own hands lift to slide down the curve of Castiel's waist, feeling the shift of muscles beneath his palms. It's like feeling each thrust twice, fingers curling and pulling, urging Cas in deeper. Dean's not a talker, usually, unless it's dirty, but after a few minutes his moans turn to words and he can't stop them.

"Oh god, Cas, that's good. Don't stop... don't... yes... keep going... make me feel it, Cas..."

Because maybe, _maybe_ , if Cas can fill _this_ need he can fill Dean's other one too. Maybe this is the something he's yearning for. And oh god is he yearning right now, cock hard and pulsing between them. It's been building thick and fast since Cas first started but Dean doesn't want to stop it, even though he's sure only a few gentle touches would bring him release, because the longer he leaves it the more physical his need becomes and as long as that's all it is the more he can fool himself that he can handle it, that there's nothing wrong.

So he cries out when Cas frees a hand and wraps it around him, pumping hard in time with his thrusts. Cries out partly in pleasure because the touch is incredible, like the first fall of rain on a long, dry summer day, and partly in protest, because he doesn't want this over. He wants Cas to finish first, or better still, to make Cas the only one who does. This can be a new kind of pain since the angel won't let him take the other. Perhaps it will break him. Yes, that's what he needs. He's screwed up anyway, so let Cas break him and maybe he'll be re-made whole again afterwards.

He moves a hand to Cas' wrist to pull him away, but the angel won't let go. His rhythm breaks and his eyes blink open.

"Cas -" Dean starts, but Castiel's speaking over him.  
  
"Let me. Please."

He'd used the same voice to ask for Dean's amulet. A childlike demand. As if refusal was unthinkable, because in his mind agreement would solve everyone's problems. Dean wants to scream that he's wrong, that god's not out there to help them and that this isn't what Cas thinks it is - it's physical and meaningless and Dean is using him.

"Dean," Cas pleads. "This is my choice. Let me do this for you."

There's that want in his gaze again. And belief. Like he knows what Dean's thinking but sees something else. And Dean's cock is throbbing under the angel's hand. So close, so close, so CLOSE. A shocking contrast, since he hasn't been able to get it up all day.

So Dean takes the easy road for once, because this is one place he can. Lets go and gives himself up to Castiel's nimbly working fingers.

He presses his eyes shut as Castiel works him, defeated, hoping to lose himself in the darkness, but the spikes of pleasure from Cas' strokes create spots of colour and white light. It's like he's swimming through them, rising up, higher and faster, blood rushing in his ears, until he breaks the surface with a shout.

Wild heat, shaking and peace washing over him. He knows this, he's felt it before, so many times. But it's a long time since it's been this good.

The end isn't the come down he's expecting either because Cas is still inside him, and the heat between them keeps the liquid coating their skin pleasantly warm.

He can hear himself panting, but it's drowned out by returning despair, that black hole swirling into being again, sucking the life out of him, threatening to swallow him whole, because nothing's changed, nothing...

A hot palm rests on his cheek and the heat flushes through him. It makes Dean think maybe he is still here, if there's enough of him left to react to that, such a small thing. He blinks his eyes open and Castiel is watching him, a sparkle in his eyes, like wonder. He's panting too, and throbbing inside the hunter, but just waiting, waiting for Dean to come back and be with him.

Dean thinks he should tell him there's not enough of Dean Winchester left for that, but he wants there to be. Crazy. He's never looked at a man before in his life, or at least... he hasn't, has he? It's hard to tell what is and isn't these days. He just knows he wants to be there when Cas comes for the first time, he wants to see it, _feel_ it, wants to know Castiel's reaction to such a human pleasure. It's not about the take anymore, can't be because he's sated now, as much as he can be anyway, and it's not even because of Famine and Cas needing this. Dean just wants this for Castiel. And he thinks maybe if there's enough of him to want, then there's enough of him. Cas pulled him from the Pit, saw him twisted and blackened and lost. So maybe it's okay to be incomplete with Cas. Maybe that really is the Dean he's been seeing all this time, and he's alright with that.

Dean wraps his other hand round Cas' neck and pulls him down.

"Your turn," he whispers in the angel's ear, turns to mouth hot, moist kisses down his jaw. Kinda weird on a guy, with stubble catching Dean's cheek, but not so different to what he already knows. Skin is skin and heat is heat, after all. Castiel shivers. "Come on, Cas. Come for me..." Cas chokes back something that might be a whimper, hand dropping from Dean's face to his shoulder.

Dean catches a faint whiff of himself off Cas' fingers with the move and, damn, if that isn't just a little bit sexy, then Castiel buries himself in the hunter's neck and starts pushing in again. He's a little slower this time, but deeper and harder, and now Dean's not struggling with his own arousal he has to wonder at how smooth this all is, how nice the angel slots into place inside him, warm and thick. It tingles, but nothing worse, and Dean figures there are guys - and girls - who would call him the luckiest bastard on earth for that. It's a thought that makes him smile, wide and dirty.

He drops back and wraps his legs round Cas' waist to make things easer. The new angle prompts a low groan from his partner and Dean runs a soothing hand up his back, fingertips brushing Cas' hair. It's damp, which Dean finds strangely endearing.

"That's it. Now you're getting it."

Cas' breath turns ragged, heavy and wet, and Dean can feel his body coiling up, feel the pressure building. Then Cas starts making weak sounds of surprise. 'Oh... oh... oh, Dean! I -'

He clutches at whatever part of Dean he can - one hand at his shoulder, the other at his side - while Dean threads his fingers through the angel's hair and wraps his other arm about his back, holding Cas steady.

"It's cool, Cas. I got you," he breathes. "You're okay..."

Dean can feel Cas flexing inside him, and though he's not saying anything anymore it's his body that's begging, all of it tensing and knotting as he climbs to the edge and pleading, _praying_ , please, oh, please, oh, please, please, please...

And Dean's whispering encouragement in Cas' ear. Not sure when he started. Not sure he even remembers doing anything else. Cas is at tipping point, and it's up to Dean to pull him over, one way or the other, because that's what he's here for. It's how it's always been between them.

"Come on, come on, come on..." Dean whispers, over and over. "Almost... almost, Cas..."

His fingers massage Cas' back, trying to loosen some of those knots, and after a moment there's a give and a gasp.

"Oh, that's it! That's it, Cas. Yes!" Cas stills and cries out, clutches Dean to him and holds for a moment before the inevitable. "Yes," Dean tells him again, not even needing to think about it. The word drops from his lips like leaves in the fall, leaving him bare but already reviving - brittle, empty limbs ready for the sunshine to make them fresh again.

There's a second when Dean thinks something tremendous is going to happen, because surely this is big enough for it. Cas isn't fallen like Anna was when he last tried this, so what happens when an _actual_ angel comes? Broken windows, at least? Or maybe a thunderstorm. Or a power outage.

But Cas just shudders, then relaxes, and Dean feels a wet heat flowing inside him.

Although maybe that's tremendous enough because wow that's new. He's always been on the giving end before, never left himself open like this to let someone into _him_ and it feels... Dean stops himself. No need to get sappy. It feels wet and warm. That's all. Which is nice enough in itself.

But better, and what he's not thinking about, is knowing it's the first time Cas has done this and it was Dean he wanted to share it with. Share himself with. That's an angel, of the lord, choosing him. Picking him out of the crowd like he _matters_.

Only it's not. It's Cas. It's _Cas_ wanting him, because he was horny. Nothing special about it. Nothing significant. And nothing's gonna change...

Cas pushes up and languid blue eyes block Dean's view of the cracked and mouldy ceiling. The angel looks like he's about to lean down, but seems to think better of it.

"Thank you," he says, and it's stupidly formal.

Dean blinks. Shrugs.

"Sure," he mutters.

Cas pulls back a bit further, like he's planning to leave. Sways. That'll be the magical pain-free part of the fuck taking effect, Dean figures. He tugs lightly on Cas' arm and shifts so the angel drops down beside him. They both examine the ceiling in silence, wetness cooling on their skin.

"You didn't have to," Castiel says after a moment.

Dean shrugs again.

"You needed it."

The pillows dip as Cas' nods.

"You don't have to stay with Sam either," the angel adds. "It's likely he won't remember your presence, or much of what occurs as the blood leaves him."

Dean can't see where this is going, but his adrenaline is slowly but surely slipping away and, combined with the warm afterglow of physical satisfaction, it's making the world fuzzy. Might as well humour Castiel while he's still conscious enough to. Get some sleep. Head back downstairs in the morning.

"I want to be there," he mutters. "Don't want him to be alone this time."

"Because it matters to you," Cas presses. "What happens to Sam... to me."

"And Bobby," Dean adds sleepily, thinking of the man quietly snoring two doors down who has been as much of a father to him and Sam as John ever was. In a way it's good Sam's condition brought them back here. Since Bobby got hurt and after that business with the Irish witch, Dean's felt bad about leaving the guy on his own too long.

"And the people you save on your hunts," Cas continues. "This whole planet..."

"Yeah," Dean agrees, eyelids drooping. "Someone's gotta fight for it."

Dean feels the pillows rustle as Cas turns his head. Practically feels the gaze as well.

"You are not empty, Dean. If you were, you would not care. You would not fight. And Michael would have you already." Dean frowns beneath closed lids but Cas' gentle words keep coming. "You are _tired_ and you crave _rest_ , that is all, and that is no sin. Famine heightened that craving. He made you hunger for oblivion. But it will pass in time, Dean, it will. If you let it."

Dean thinks this is probably something else he needs to argue, but somehow his body is dry again and the sheets that were beneath him are being pulled across his chest - more angel tricks. While the fabric is old and stained, it is also familiar and comforting and leaves him warm and relaxed. There is a touch to his forehead that he suspects is a couple of fingers, but could just as easily be a kiss, and it leads him into sleep.

 

~ fin ~


End file.
